


The Hanged Widow

by kelsinka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Dubious Consent, Dubious Consent due to Alcohol, Emotional Hurt, M/M, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:59:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7440235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelsinka/pseuds/kelsinka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus, in the aftermath of Lily Potter's wedding, visits a pub and gets drunk. Lucius takes advantage of the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hanged Widow

**The Hanged Widow**

The Hanged Widow was just as depressing as the name made it sound like. It was an ancient pub, first opened somewhere around the 1450’s, located at the far end of Knockturn Alley. Not many wizards or witches looked twice at its grimy windows, ripped curtains and generally uninviting appearance, except for a few stubborn regulars.

And this was exactly why Clarentus MacMiller, not so proud owner of The Hanged Widow, was looking suspiciously at the form of a young man striding through the entrance. 

Clarentus narrowed his eyes at him as he took in the man’s appearance. He certainly was young, no older than twenty he suspected, but he carried himself as if he were years older. Long, black hair cut unevenly hung limply down his pallid face in greasy lumps. His thin lips, located underneath a hooked nose, were tightly pressed together with the corners turned naturally downward. 

Apart from his mouth, nothing in his expression gave away any emotion whatsoever. Clarentus felt a bit taken aback by this. The young man, that was now scanning the room, somehow made him feel distrustful, intimidated and curious all at once. In the privacy of his own mind, he wondered how such a young kid, barely an adult, could strike him this way.

The man, clad in all black, had spotted the bar and was now walking towards him, his leather boots squeaking as he did so. The sound was somehow very prominent between the slight murmur of the other customers.

“Wha’ can I get ye, kid?” Clarentus grumbled, putting down the glass he’d been drying. The flicker of annoyance in the young man’s face at being called a kid was not acknowledged by him.

“A double shot of the strongest drink you’ve got.” the stranger spoke softly, in a very low tone, cutting once again through the background murmur.

Clarentus raised one bushy eyebrow as the young man sat down on one of the barstools. “Are ye sher ye can handle tha’ stuff?”

The man ignored him completely, instead focusing on wringing his long and spidery fingers.

Fortunately, Clarentus had long ago gotten used to gruff customers and didn’t take any offence. He turned around, grabbed a bottle of Ismodulus’s Fine Rum and poured some of it into the low glass he had just cleaned. He set it in front of the young man and, after a moment of hesitation, placed the bottle beside the glass. He looked like he could use it.

The dark-haired boy (Clarentus had just decided he looked more like a boy in a man’s body than an actual man) tentatively reached for the glass and placed it a bit closer to himself. The tips of his fingers rested against the glass, but he made no move to drink any of the sickly purple liquid.

“So, I haven’t seen ye ‘round here befo’,” Clarentus started conversationally. He didn’t really care that much about his customers, only about his income really, but somehow the odd appearance of the boy in front of him intrigued him enough to try to find out a little more about him. 

“No, I reckon you haven’t.” was all the boy replied. He had raised the glass and placed it against his lips, still not drinking anything. Clarentus momentarily thought he looked as if he was debating whether to drink it or not.

“Wha’ brings ye here, then?” he tried again, flicking his wand. The glasses and bottles he had just cleaned floated to their proper place with a soft _clang_. 

Finally, the boy’s face showed some emotion as he furrowed his brow in anger. His eyes, which matched his inky hair perfectly, turned downward and without any hesitation he took a big gulp of Ismodulus’s. He grimaced, but, against all Clarentus’s expectations, managed to keep the alarmingly strong drink inside.

“That is none of your business.” he said, sounding a little less steady now, and took another mouthful. He didn’t grimace this time. 

“Ye know,” Clarentus continued, undisturbed, “I think ah young kid like ye sheldn’t be in here. ‘Specially not drinkin’ ol’ Ismodulus’s stuff.”

As an answer, the boy drained his glass and went on to pour himself another drink. He had his eyes narrowed in concentration, but still managed to spill a little on the scratched counter. Clarentus wondered just why the boy was trying to act like a man as he cleaned it up with a flick of his wand.

He leaned a little against the counter, towards the boy, the remaining, grimy glasses waiting to be cleaned now forgotten.

“‘S about a girl, innit.”

The severe glare and rather large gulp the boy took were enough of an answer and Clarentus was transported to his own young years, when he himself had drunk quite a few drinks over silly women.

“She left ya?” he said with a knowing smile.

The boy was seemingly thinking as he stared at a gash in the counter. One thin strand of hair fell over his eye and he absentmindedly brushed it away. Apparently the alcohol was starting to loosen his tongue a little, as he answered:

“No.”

“Ah, ye left ‘er, then?”

“No,” he almost sighed, sounding strangely resigned, “She was never mine to begin with.”

After that, the boy didn’t speak to him anymore. He seemed lost in his own thoughts and had pulled on an unnaturally blank face. Clarentus didn’t try to converse with him again. He figured he knew enough now and decided he’d best let the boy think in peace.

… 

About twenty minutes went by, though Severus only knew because of the rusting clock hanging on the wall opposite of him. His brain was fuzzy and he couldn’t think that straight, but for once, he was all right with that.

Lily had looked absolutely gorgeous on her wedding. She had been happier than he’d ever seen her at Hogwarts, smiling all the way to the makeshift altar in the middle of a forest clearing. 

He hadn’t meant to go, really. He had told himself over and over again that going to visit his former best friend’s wedding was foolish, that there were bound to be Aurors or Order members that were out to capture him, that there was nothing to gain from going. He had chanted all of this in his mind over and over again even as he’d stood there, hidden by a few well-placed illusion charms and the shadows of the nearby trees. 

Severus couldn’t even remember that much from the ceremony itself, instead burning the image of Lily and James Potter standing side by side into his mind. 

He had thought it would hurt to see her as happy with another man as he had. Had thought he would do something stupid, like try to interfere, tell everyone _he_ objected, that _he_ deserved her more than that wanker _Potter_ , that _he loved her_. 

But he didn’t. 

Severus had just stood there, in his hiding place, cringing away from the patches of sunlight and laughter like the demented vampire many schoolmates had accused him of being off. And he hadn’t felt a thing. Just a dull sense of something irreversible happening.

Because he knew this was meant to be. Lily deserved someone of the upper class, even if it were James bloody Potter. 

There had been no way she would have even considered Snivellus Snape, the Half-blooded, greasy, ugly and worthless piece of shit. And even if she, by some miracle, had, Snivellus had fucked everything up with words he’d forever regret and choices he’d wished he’d never made.

Severus pressed the palms of his hands against his eyelids, then stared at the two (were there two?) dancing glasses of alcohol in front of him. This had been the first drink he’d ever had. He had sworn to himself never to drink anything alcoholic after his piss-drunk father had beaten him to an inch of his life one night, but he supposed that didn’t matter anymore. The Severus who had made that silent vow was long gone now.

The door of the pub made an irritatingly loud sound as it swung open and Severus silently groaned. The room had started to spin and he really didn’t need any loud noises now. He decided to continue with the self-pity in the confines of his own home, honestly not caring if he Splinched himself trying to Apparate, so he tossed a few galleons on the counter and stood up. He glimpsed the mildly concerned look of the owner as he unsteadily turned around and immediately bumped into a person.

“What a pitiful sight you have turned into, Severus.”

Severus’s normally respectful behaviour was completely dulled by the alcohol as he angrily tried to push away the solid wall of another man.

“Go away, Lucius.” he heard his own voice slur.

Lucius awarded him with a look that Severus really didn’t care for at the moment before he roughly grabbed him by his elbow and steered him towards an empty table. Severus struggled half-heartedly as he was pushed onto one of the two benches that surrounded it. They formed something like a booth which creaked ominously as Lucius sat down not in front of Severus, but directly beside him.

“You look like shit, Severus.” Lucius growled, his breath hitting Severus as they sat uncomfortably close to each other.

“What do you want, Lucius.” Severus asked the two Lucius Malfoys that were spinning around him. 

Lucius’s eyes were looking at him, cold and calculating, which would probably have made Severus suspicious if he hadn’t been completely wasted. There was something off about the grey orbs that were staring at him like one would do at a piece of meat.

“You went to that Mudblood’s wedding, didn’t you?” Lucius stated more like a fact than like a question, ignoring the way Severus’s head was slightly swaying from side to side.

“ _Don’t_ call her that,” Severus tried to sound intimidating, but it failed as most of the words were slurred together in an incomprehensive mess. He pointed an accusing finger at Spinning Malfoy #1, hoping it was the right one. “You don’t understand _shit_ , Lucius.”

“Ah, but there you are mistaken, _dear friend_ ,” Lucius said, his tone soft and dangerous as he conjured up two glasses and the bottle of Ismodulus’s Severus hadn’t seen him take from the counter, “Do take another drink.”

Severus watched with distrustful eyes as Lucius filled one glass to the brim and pushed it into his direction before pouring a more moderate amount into his own. Lucius gave him a commanding look, one usually reserved for his unfortunate house elf, and nudged his glass.

“Drink up.”

Figuring _why the fuck not_ Severus did as he was told. The burning liquid felt good in an unhealthy way as it dulled his senses and upset his stomach even more. 

“That was incredibly dense, going there,” Lucius drawled, looking distastefully at his own glass and casting a cleansing spell on it. “If Moody had been there, you wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

Severus was only half listening as he shakily poured himself another miserable glass before gulping it down. There bottle was now half-empty.

Lucius, apparently not caring that he was holding a monologue, continued: “You are lucky I haven’t reported this to the Dark Lord. _Yet_ ,” Malfoy added in a dark whisper. “What were you even _thinking_?”

Severus let his head fall onto his palms, struggling to even sit upright. Lucius shifted beside him, leaning closer and hissing into his ear. “Did you think, perhaps, she’d change her mind for you? Did you think you could just barge in, demand to talk to that _Mudblood_ and make everything all right again? Did you think she’d choose you?”

His Occlumency failing due to the alcohol flowing through his veins, Severus was horrified to hear his voice crack. _“No.”_

“You are a terrible liar, Severus.” Lucius whispered, mocking him, haunting him. “Can you imagine what the Potters are doing now?” he cruelly continued, “It is their wedding night, after all.”

Severus flinched away from Lucius, almost falling off the bench. _“Shut up.”_

Lucius completely ignored him, leaning in closer, now leaning over him like a predator, ready to pounce, “Can you imagine James Potter’s hands all over her? Do you think she’s screaming his name right now, while he _fucks her? Do you, Severus?”_

Severus’s emotions didn’t feel dulled anymore. They all flowed out of him as water from a cracked dam, or tears out of black eyes. He felt like his sixteen-year old self again, standing outside of the Gryffindor common room, utterly miserable and alone. 

He didn’t resist as Lucius wiped away his tears in an alarmingly intimate fashion. 

A very suggestive hand was placed into his lap, carefully groping him. Lucius’s long, platinum hair sticked to his wet cheeks a little as the man leaned forward and murmured directly into his ear.

_“I know how to make you forget.”_

And Severus _wanted_ to forget. Wanted to erase that image of Lily and _Potter_ standing by the altar, looking blissfully in love and without a care in the world, out of his mind. Even if it were just for a few minutes, hell, even if it were for a few _seconds_. 

So Severus just meekly nodded. He didn’t struggle as Lucius’s pale eyes sparked with victory. Didn’t struggle as he was hoisted up and dragged out of the pub, being watched by Clarentus MacMiller. He barely felt the thug of Apparition as Lucius and he landed in front of Malfoy Manor and he was dragged inside the dark doors.

As he collapsed on the spacious bed, Lucius’s heavy weight on top of him, he closed his eyes. Lucius’s incantation, mumbled by a now low and almost husky voice, swiftly disrobed them both and Severus focused on the heat engulfing him. 

Lucius didn’t kiss him, only nibbled or licked him every now and then, but never kissed him, for which Severus felt grateful. Kissing had, for Severus, always involved feelings and emotions he didn’t want. It reminded him of days long ago when a nervous boy and curious girl sat by the lake and experimented with things they’d heard about. It made him feel sick.

The pain was unexpected but welcomed. Severus lay down on his stomach, Lucius’s soft hands pressing him roughly down onto the mattress, focusing on the sharp sting. He vaguely heard Lucius mumble to himself approvingly as he thrust into him, but other than that his mind was blissfully blank once again. 

There were no thoughts swimming through his mind, not even about Lily scanning the crowd at her wedding and certainly not about the brief flash of disappointment in her eyes as she saw the seat with the name of a long lost friend written on it empty.


End file.
